You Naughty Girl
by Lupinista
Summary: A series 1 Bates/Anna "missing moments" oneshot collection, attempting to explain what's going on in their heads and fill in a few scenes where they're occupying the background. Banna, possibly (probably) featuring other couples in the near future.
1. Series 1 Episode 1

**A/N: I just started watching Downton Abbey recently, and I'm obsessed (mainly with Bates and Anna). In the fourth episode of series two, when Mary is singing "If You Were the Only Girl", I spied Bates standing in back next to Anna, and I found myself wondering what he might be thinking. I wanted to write a oneshot about that episode, but then I had a thought. There are plenty of scenes in which Anna and Bates are together but in the background, so why not write a whole series of behind-the-scenes Banna. I realize this is a lot to take on, and honestly, a fair amount of what I'm writing will be direct dialect and direction from the episodes, but I'd like to see if I can keep this up. So begins my oneshot/drabble series.**

**Disclaimer: These characters, as well as every word spoken in this shot, belong to Julian Fellowes, and I am in no way connected.**

He'd come early with the milk train.

John Bates was nothing if not eager for this new job, a new start, a new beginning. His most vivid memories were filled with the horrors of the Boer War, and the self-disappointment of his drunkenness, failing marriage, and false imprisonment. But, by a rare stroke of luck, he'd made contact with Robert Crawley, his former war companion and the Earl of Grantham. His Lordship was in need of a valet, and having already formed such a close relationship during the war, Bate had seemed a logical choice to assist Lord Grantham in his more intimate day-to-day events.

Bates couldn't have been more pleased if he tried. Despite his sketchy past dealings and record, he was being granted most graciously a position which most would achieve after a great deal of time and effort. Every fiber of Bates's being, down to the shrapnel embedded in his leg, hummed with a desire to prove he was still competent, still determined, still worthy (if by a very small measure) of this new life, a sort of "do-over."

After no one answered his knock to the back door, he dithered for a moment, wondering what to do. Of course, they were likely not expecting him so early. Perhaps he should have planned his arrival more carefully… but he had arrived, and there was no going back. The ache in his leg from standing in one place quickly made the decision for him, and he carefully eased open the back door. He cast a glance over his shoulder before stepping over the threshold and pulling the oak door closed behind him.

Bates found himself in a plain hall with no wall decoration, just eggshell colored from floor to ceiling. He heard sounds from up ahead: the din of a busy kitchen, no doubt. He followed his ears, hoping perhaps a maid or footman could point him in the right direction. Step, cane, shuffle. Step, cane, shuffle. He wondered belatedly if he would be received with enthusiasm or trepidation because of his limp.

"She's a girl, stupid. Girls can't inherit."

A thick voice floated down the hall more clearly than the distant chatter and clunk of pots and pans, and Bates paused. He had reached the end of the short hall, which gave way to a landing. A staircase let off to three separate, longer hallways, each of which John glanced down. His nerves had spiked, and he shook his head briefly, trying to rid himself of any anxiety.

"But now Mr. Crawley's dead, and Mr. Patrick was his only son. So what happens next?"

A tall woman in a dark dress came into Bates's view as she reached the bottom of the staircase. She held an air of arrogance and she stopped short when she noticed him standing before her.

Two maids had followed close behind. "Dreadful thing!" the blonde said. The redhead turned her head back to nod in agreement. The maids came to the landing behind the taller woman, and three pairs of eyes regarded him curiously.

"Hello," Mr. Bates finally said, offering a small smile. He leaned over to set down his traveling bag before facing the three women again. "I've been waiting at the back door. I knocked, but no one came."

"So you pushed in?" asked the stern woman, her voice biting.

"I'm John Bates, the new valet," he supplied by means of explanation.

"The new valet?"

"That's right."

Bates watched her gaze flicker down to his bad leg.

"You're early," she finally said pointedly.

"I came on the milk train. Thought I'd use the day to get to know the place, start tonight."

She had no reply, and there was a beat of silence before the blonde tucked a large pillow under her arm to free her right hand and stepped forward. "I'm Anna," she said, "the head housemaid."

John carefully transferred his cane to his left hand and took her small, warm hand in his right, giving it a quick shake. "How do you do?" He turned to the arrogant woman, his hand outstretched, but she disregarded it.

"And I'm Miss O'Brien," she introduced herself, "the Ladyship's maid." Bates regarded her as he reclaimed his cane. "You'd better come along with us."

Mr. Bates nodded quickly in assent and reached down to lift his traveling bag. When he had straightened up, Miss O'Brien was already hurrying away, the redhead in tow. The blonde, Anna, shot O'Brien a look behind her back before turning her gaze on him. The smile Anna offered was simple, but it touched her warm, kind eyes, and Bates could not help but return it. Anna continued after Miss O'Brien and Bates paused.

This maid, Anna, seemed quite sweet, and he couldn't suppress the thought that absently crept into his mind – perhaps he could forage a friendship with her? Though he was eager to interact peacefully with his fellow servants, he knew their opinion of him was not of importance. Still, it would be nice to pass a friendly face in the corridor once in awhile, perhaps a mate to joke with about Miss O'Brien's tightly wound fringe. As he stepped forward to go around the corner, the tiny voice in the back of his head decided he hoped that could be Anna.


	2. Series 1 Episode 2

**A/N: This was a little difficult to write; part of me wanted to use the scene where Bates sits next to Anna and says "alone at last," but I felt that really constricted where I could take the scene, as they are interrupted by Charles Grigg at the door.**

**Disclaimer: These characters are the property of a Mr. Julian Fellowes, as well as the dialogue up to the second-to-last paragraph.**

It had been an eventful day at Downton, to say the least. Mr. Bates had heard many mutterings in the corridors, mainly about the cheek of the new heir to the Grantham estate, Matthew Crawley, who held a strong desire to defy the posh societal ways of Lord Grantham's family; as well as the conflict between Her Ladyship the Dowager Countess and Isobel Crowley, who were ferociously butting heads over the running of the Downton hospital. But nothing could have quite prepared him for the afternoon's events.

"Poor Mr. Carson. We'll have to treat him like a god for a month to calm his nerves."

Offering Anna a sideways smile for keeping his pace down the stairs with him, Bates agreed. "He'll be afraid this will change the way we think of him."

"Then we mustn't let it," Anna insisted, turning to face him at the entry to the servants' hall.

"But it will," Bates insisted before leaning closer. "'The Cheerful Charlies'?" He met Anna's eyes, and the two scoffed simultaneously, dissolving into fits of soft laughter. Bates couldn't help but admire the look on Anna's face, pleased _he_ had made the joke to cause that pretty smile. "For all his talk of dignity, we know his story now," he continued.

"And we admire him more because of it," Anna insisted immediately, her eyes still dancing.

"Maybe," Bates conceded, growing thoughtful, "but it will change the way we think of him. It always does." Bates's smile tightened slightly and he passed her to enter the servants' hall.

"I don't see why," Anna said from behind him in disagreement, and he turned to face him. "I shouldn't care what I found out about you. Whatever it was. It wouldn't alter my opinion _one bit_."

Her matter-of-fact tone was flattering, but Bates's smile grew tight. "But it would, it certainly would." He turned away once again, and as if sensing the subject were touchy, Anna remained silent.

If only she knew.

Anyone with eyes could see that Mr. Carson was one who held a man's honor in highest regard. Bates knew of shameful pasts and how difficult they were to escape; he pitied that Carson's former life had caught up with him today, but was more than willing to keep his secret. He also found it admirable that Anna had not blown the gaff, as it were, and seemed determined to protect Carson. Granted, performing a comedy routine onstage and pilfering a bag of apples was nothing compared to –

"Mr. Bates? Are you quite alright?"

Bates realized he was at the table, hands white-knuckled on the back of a chair he had not yet pulled out to seat himself in. Anna was next to him, her eyes no longer laughing but concerned. He smiled tightly and gave her a nod before shuffling around the chair and seating himself next to her. Their knees brushed. Anna offered him a shy smile, and Bates forgot what he had been worrying about altogether.


	3. Series 1 Episode 3

**A/N: (EDIT) I'd originally written this thinking in this episode, Bates had muttered Anna's name, but I've since been told he says "amen" - and thank you, both Bellarsam Chrisjulittle & anon, for setting me straight :) Still, for the purpose of this, why not suppose he's slipped up and actually said "Anna"? Thank you so much for the kind reviews! They are much appreciated. If you have any ideas for future shots, or any suggestions if you think something should be improved, feel free to let me know!**

**Disclaimer: This is Julian Fellowes's world, and basically entirely his dialogue. I'm just playing on his playground.**

"See here! In the first place, none of the rooms in this house belong to you."

Mr. Bates could hear Mrs. Hughes's ranting as he reached the bottom of the stairs, and he followed her scolding to the servants' hall.

"And in the second, I am in charge of your welfare, and that gives me every right."

Bates ducked into the hall, lingering in the doorway behind Gwen, who had drawn back, and Anna, who stood defiantly, facing Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Carson, and all the servants, curiously surveying something that sat on the table.

"This is you, isn't it?" Anna had questioned venomously in Miss O'Brien's direction. O'Brien glowered defiantly back. Anna had told Mr. Bates quietly, in passing, about Gwen's desire to become a secretary, how she wanted to leave the service, and how Miss O'Brien had nearly caught the girls discussing these things in their room just the day before.

"All we want," Mr. Carson interjected, "is to know what Gwen wants with a typewriter, and why she feels she needs to keep it secret."

"She wants to keep it _private_, not secret," Anna said hotly. "There's a difference."

Bates could not keep her name from slipping out his mouth, his soft, "Anna," a plea for her silence. She stiffened almost imperceptibly; her head whipped from right to left, but she stopped herself from turning around to face him fully, instead glowering at the other servants who treated the incident as if it were a spectator sport.

As Gwen finally spoke up in her own defense, Mr. Bates zoned out slightly, neutrally surveying as the scene played out. He was embarrassed he'd been so quick to react, and hoping desperately that Anna would not feel as though he was against her. Clearly she respected Gwen's ambition to leave service, and Bates agreed, even as far as saying he outright admired her zeal for a new way of living. He was confident in this viewpoint… And yet he was afraid. Somehow, in that split second of rash action, he wondered if he might have given Anna the impression he felt differently. He feared, perhaps, she may be disappointed – and disappointing Anna Smith was certainly something Mr. Bates did not desire in the least.

"I am going to ring the dressing gong, and there will be no more talk of this tonight."

Mr. Carson's parting words were uttered with strict finality, and Bates snapped back to the present. The staff executed, as always, the most organized scattering he had ever seen, all headed off to perform their respective duties for the evening. Anna turned, likely off to dress the girls (_As you should be doing with His Lordship_, a voice at the back of Bates's mind prompted scathingly) and upon facing him, she looked very angry, her jaw tight and her eyes flashing. However…

In the blink of an eye, the harshness of Anna's features had softened, her gaze warm, and she took a step towards him. "Mr. Bates," she murmured, mimicking his beseeching tone from just minutes before. She then gave him a cheeky grin, and he felt so relieved by her forgiveness, it wasn't until she had swept out of the servants' hall and was up the stairs before he realized what exactly had just transpired.

Was she… could she _really_ be… _flirting_?

Bates tightened hold on his cane, feeling like a young schoolboy, and headed in the direction of Lord Grantham's dressing room, his face warmer and complexion redder than he could remember it being for a long, long time.


	4. Series 1 Episode 4

**A/N: I would have had this up at least a day ago, but unfortunately it seemed as if every time I sat down to write, my son decided his naptime was going to be cut short. I found a few free hours this morning to finally get all the ideas I'd had typed up and edited, which has resulted in the oneshot that just keeps going. This is a lot longer than I'd intended, but the most actual behind-the-scenes I've done thus far, and though I doubt there will be a chapter this long for awhile, I'm very pleased with how it turned out. Thanks also to my kind and ever-helpful reviewers! Your words keep me motivated.**

**Disclaimer: Julian Fellowes created Downton Abbey, owns these characters, and is just plain awesome. The end.**

After a cloudy couple of days, the sky had cleared and Downton was being graced with a pleasantly sunny Wednesday afternoon, and with Lord Grantham busy in his study and the daughters settled, Mr. Bates, Anna, and Gwen had joined together for a walk through Downton, greeted with the pleasant surprise of watching the Downton Fair being assembled. Gwen had exclaimed cheerfully at the sight, her face splitting into a large grin at the brightly colored signs and stalls. Mr. Bates had chuckled good-naturedly before meeting Anna's amused gaze; Anna had not had quite as exuberant of a reaction, but Bates could tell she was also excited. And why not be? Being able to hold a fair was a perk of the warm summer months, offering fun and games to the residents of Downton. Bates himself hadn't been to a fair since he was a young boy.

Gwen's eager steps led the trio onto the paths around the various stalls and stands. She looked this way and that, craning her neck to not miss a single glimpse at the scenery. "When does it open?" she asked. Mr. Bates mused silently that she seemed to be enjoying herself plenty without the fair even going on, but he held back a chuckle and replied,

"Tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh, let's get up a party, in the evening – if Mrs. Hughes lets us – after we've had our dinner?" Gwen looked to Anna, as though for permission.

"You're right," Anna replied with a smile. "It doesn't come often, and it doesn't stay long."

"Well what about you, Mr. Bates?" Gwen questioned, turning her head to him.

What about him, indeed? Mr. Bates glanced to Anna, admiring her profile for a moment – no, he wasn't _admiring_ her. That wasn't what friends did. And Mr. Bates and Anna were certainly friends, and nothing more. Right? He enjoyed the secret smiles they shared, and the fact that he and Anna's most frequented seats in the servants' hall were always left empty – universally understood that they sat next to each other, every day, no exceptions – was nothing short of comical. But he was determined those things would be the extent of it. Bates wasn't blind, nor was he ignorant; he knew the way Anna treated him at times wasn't the way a _friend_ acted around another _friend_. But even if she let her true feelings slip out from time to time, he would not reciprocate. Though it was a nice boost to his ego, seeing the pink tinge her cheeks when he offered an offhanded compliment or laughed at one of her jokes. It was just nice being admired, that's all.

And Mr. Bates certainly wasn't going to let his feelings for her – er, his _friendship_ with her – to affect his daily plans. Of course he wouldn't. So he would not agree to coming along just because he knew Anna wanted to go. No way.

"I don't see why not."

Mr. Bates's voice answered against his will, and he glanced down to see their reactions; Gwen nodded, seeming pleased, but Anna's attention was focused elsewhere, and he felt his lungs contract in a sigh. He caught a glance at Gwen's face, and she was studying him, looking puzzled.

"Oh, there's Lady Mary," Anna said; her eyes were fixed on a gray-clad figure standing a hundred meters away. She turned back to face Bates and Gwen. "You go on ahead. I'll see you back at the house."

Bates nodded to her, trying to hide his disappointment. Not that there was anything wrong with Gwen… who was still studying him as they parted ways with Anna. He put on the best poker face he could muster as they looped through the fair decorations and headed back in the direction of the abbey.

"Are you certain you'd like to go with us, truly?" Gwen pressed when they were out of earshot.

Going to a fair wasn't exactly something he desired to do on his Thursday evening off. But if Anna was going – well, two friends could go to a carnival together, surely. Even if one of those friends – the 'one' being _her_, of course – possibly had feelings for the other. Because those feelings were purely one-sided (which Mr. Bates vowed to repeat to himself until he actually believed it to be true.) And obviously, Anna wouldn't be the only one going. Why, this would allow Bates some bonding time with his co-workers outside of Downton's walls – obviously what would make his night great would be winning Thomas a stuffed Peter Rabbit in a toss game, or sharing a bag of candy floss with Miss O'Brien.

"Well… I haven't been to a fair in ages," Mr. Bates finally answered neutrally, deciding to stick with answers based on fact and not on his fleeting, fickle emotions.

"I hope you don't feel as though you'd just be tagging along," Gwen said slowly. She seemed to work her words around in her mouth before adding, "I know it isn't likely your usual haunt but I'm sure Anna will be ever so pleased to have you along."

Bates opened his mouth, and then shut it promptly. Gwen smirked at him for a moment, then returned her gaze to the path ahead of them, looking pleased with herself.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Bates finally settled on; he was disappointed at how unconvincing his words sounded.

"Don't you?" Gwen asked coyly, still not looking at him, though her cheeks were still raised in a knowing sort of grin.

"Anna and I are just friends," he added insistently.

"Of course," Gwen said slowly. "But if you don't mind me saying so, Mr. Bates, friends can be pleased to see each other. Which makes me think if it were that simple, you wouldn't have to try so hard convince me that you're 'just' friends."

With that, Gwen's politely small strides lengthened somewhat, and Bates sighed in defeat at the younger girl's taunting and resigned to a slower hobble back to the house. "Perhaps it's not you I need to convince," he said under his breath.

* * *

The next day, as various maids and kitchen staff trickled in and out of the servants' hall, Bates sat down to breakfast. Gwen joined him a moment later, leaving a seat in between empty – Anna's usual spot. Although he'd seen her for a brief moment at breakfast, she was unusually absent for luncheon. Mr. Bates knew Lady Grantham had taken Lady Edith and Lady Sybil into the village, but perhaps Anna was attending to Lady Mary?

"Is Anna not coming down?" he asked Gwen, trying to keep his tone casual.

"No, I'm afraid not," she said shortly, casting him a sideways glance as she selected a cup for her tea. Mr. Bates waited for her to elaborate, but she made herself busy with pouring hot water into the cup and methodically dunking in the teabags. When she raised the glass to her lips, she noticed he still hadn't made a move to prepare himself anything. She smirked into her cup, and his jaw twitched in agitation.

"Mrs. Hughes sent her to back to bed," Gwen finally said. "She's got a nasty cold. I'm sure after a kip she'll be back on her feet, ready to work."

"That's too bad," Mr. Bates said, and it was; poor Anna was probably overworked and under-rested. "I wish there was something I – I mean, _we_ – could do for her."

"Who, Anna?" Miss O'Brien asked, entering the hall at Thomas's heels. "The best thing would be to leave her go so she's better sooner. Sick." She spat the word bitingly. Mr. Bates and Gwen shared a confused look. O'Brien sighed heavily. "I'm to take over her duties of tending to the girls," she explained, as though informing them was of a great inconvenience. "Might as well set me up at the fair tonight in a booth, juggling away like a brain-dead monkey. It would be easier than trying to dress and groom _four_ Ladies."

"You are the only other Lady's maid," Gwen said. O'Brien set her with a glare, as though this were Gwen's fault to begin with.

Thomas chuckled to himself and lit up a cigarette, blowing smoke into Gwen and Bates's faces. "Bit of a shame you can't come to the fair now," he told Miss O'Brien, "though I suppose Anna won't be going now either, so it's a fair trade."

Bates took hold of a pitcher in front of him and poured himself a glass of water. He mulled over Thomas's words; if Anna wasn't going, maybe he would avoid the outing entirely and remain at Downton.

* * *

"I thought Anna might have come down for dinner."

It seemed that whenever Mr. Bates brought up Anna, the conversation was started in extremely forced casualty. He was truly treading on thin ice at the moment; O'Brien made it clear she was in a bad mood, and whenever Sarah O'Brien turned sour, she became belligerent, like a snake ready to strike. (Thomas was rather snaky himself, so perhaps their friendship was an even better match than Bates had ever considered before.)

O'Brien stilled in her sewing to regard him. "And show she's ready to start work again? Not a chance." Miss O'Brien seemed to think that Anna's having fallen ill was some sort of elaborate plot to skive off her duties for a day, and treated it as the greatest inconvenience of her life.

Bates kept his gaze on the worn collars he was sorting. "She's still in bed then." It was a statement, rather than a question; Bates did his best to hide his disappointment that he hadn't seen her all day, but for a brief moment in the hallway that morning. He spared a glance at Miss O'Brien for her response.

"She is. While I'm sat here, sewing like a cursed princess in a fairytale and not down at the fair with the others."

Bates didn't prod further, sensing he'd ruffled her feathers enough for one night. Mr. Branson had gone back to his newspaper, scratching the back of his neck nervously, and Mr. Bates completed the sorting of His Lordship's collars before announcing he'd be heading up to his room.

As Mr. Bates passed the kitchen, he spied Mrs. Patmore sorting dishes, taking dirty ones off the serving trays and transporting them to the sink to be washed. An idea struck him.

* * *

Upon reaching the doorway separating the men's quarters from the women's, Mr. Bates could have kicked himself. Anna had brought him dinner after his initial sacking from his job, but with permission from Mrs. Hughes. He, however, had fibbed and sneaked to prepare the tray for Anna, and had struggled up so many stairs to get it to her, only to feel has though he'd been clubbed over the head – the door was locked, and there was nothing he could do about that, save bashing in the glass window.

Bates exhaled sharply through his nose. He quickly assessed in his head the likelihood that any other of the servants had retired yet: very slim, surely. A good number of them had gone down to the fair, and a small handful were busy tending to the last-minute arrival of Mr. Matthew Crawley, and Her Ladyship the Dowager Countess. Surely there would be nobody to notice…

Mr. Bates raised a fist and knocked three times.

There was always the chance that Anna was asleep, and he hoped dearly he hadn't woken her. He waited with bated breath; after a moment, there was the sound of a door opening, and light flooded the opposite hallway. He knocked again, eagerly, seeing a silhouette through the glass, and hissed, "Anna."

"Mr. Bates?" she asked confusedly.

"Can you open the door?"

He heard the sound of a few hesitant footsteps. "I daren't," she whispered a moment later. Her shape was growing in size on the opposite side of the door as she neared him. "No one can open that door except Mrs. Hughes."

"Just for a moment," he said, hoping his pleading wasn't too pathetic, "I've brought you something."

There was a beat, and he could just picture Anna's face, her nose wrinkled as she deliberated. He heard a sigh, a few clicks, and the sound of the locks in the door scraping as it unlocked.

And suddenly there she was, standing before him in her white robe, her hair braided into a long plait. Her nose was pink and her face pale, but that didn't matter in the slightest – she looked like an angel. Bates couldn't help the smile that lit his face, even as he mentally kicked himself (Don't think about her like that, idiot!), and he held the tray out to her with one hand.

His cheeks pinkened slightly at the lift of the corners of her lips; she looked flattered, and maybe a little embarrassed, that he'd gone to such trouble for her, but he'd do it again just to see her eyes light up as they did. He knew she would be hungry, having not eaten since breakfast, and she needed energy to fight off the cold. The flowers were for decoration and because, well, girls liked flowers, didn't they?

"I – I don't know what –" she began, tightening her shawl around herself, but Mr. Bates shushed her quickly, sparing a glance over his shoulder; it wouldn't look too admirable on either of their heads if we were caught with the barrier between the men's and women's quarters open, even if he was just delivering a tray, which he thrust towards her once again encouragingly.

She accepted the tray, and their eyes locked; Mr. Bates felt as if he stopped breathing. Her gaze was genial, and she let out a breath, offering a dazzling smile that showed her teeth. She shifted her feet, and for a second it seemed to Bates she may have been trying to take a step towards him, her lips parting as if to speak, but all too soon the moment was interrupted. The sound of a door opening burst the warm bubble surrounding them, and he nodded at her, indicating she ought to head back to her room. She stepped back under the doorframe, careful to not overturn the tray, and Mr. Bates helped pull the door shut before turning away.

When he reached the end of the servant's hall, Mr. Bates nearly walked straight into William, who apologized quickly, rubbing at his eyes and ducking past. Bates didn't say a word, but noted the pitch of his voice and the redness of his face. William had been crying, and that didn't sit well with him at all.


	5. Series 1 Episode 5

**A/N: Thank you all for the positive feedback I've received so far! The amount of views this has is flattering, even though not all of you leave reviews, just knowing it's being read (and hopefully enjoyed) is all I can ask for! I hope this chapter suits :)**

**Disclaimer: Blah blah Downton Abbey belongs to Julian Fellowes...**

The entire kitchen staff, buzzing over the scandal that had become of Mrs. Patmore's salty pudding dish, had gathered in the servants' hall, surrounding the poor cook, who was sobbing into a handkerchief. "I don't see how it happened!" she bawled pitifully. Mr. Bates certainly did not envy her, but it was no secret that something had been up with Mrs. Patmore recently; the woman was notorious for running her kitchen like a strict army general, yet as of late she'd been slipping up and making clumsy mistakes. It was all very unlike her.

Mr. Carson sighed deeply and, upon meeting Bates's gaze, jerked his head in a gesture Bates read plain and simple: _get out_.

"Come on, everyone, let's give Mrs. Patmore some room to breathe," he said with as much authority as he could muster, carefully squeezing himself between Mrs. Patmore and the table, eager to escape before the poor cook's tears flooded the room. As he made to pass Anna, he muttered, "You too," accidentally brushing up against her as he spoke in her ear. Their eyes met and her cheeks tinged pink for a fraction of a second before she had turned back to Mrs. Patmore, her face serious and full of pity once more.

"I don't think I should leave her –"

"Oh yes you should," Mr. Bates replied adamantly. "Mr. Carson knows what he's doing."

It was a true testament to Anna's kindhearted nature; she and Mrs. Patmore had worked together for many years, to be sure, but they weren't exactly the best of friends, and Anna's desire to stay and comfort her was admirable. But as much as Bates sure she didn't want to, she followed him out of the servants' hall.

A few maids lingered nearby, casting nervous glances back through the doorway, but Mrs. Hughes shooed them away, insisting they give Mrs. Patmore and Mr. Carson some privacy, and they scurried. Mrs. Hughes offered the both of them a wan smile before heading into her room. Mr. Bates made to go upstairs, but he felt a tug at hi sleeve; Anna had grabbed hold of his suit coat.

"I need to talk to you," she whispered.

Bates felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He knew from an entire life's worth of experience that anytime a woman used the phrase "need to talk," something serious was going on. He wasn't sure what Anna would have to say to him, and his brain jumped to a million and one conclusions. One of the foremost in his mind related to the conversation they'd had a few days prior.

He had happened upon Anna changing the bed in Lady Edith's room by her lonesome; Mr. Carson had sent Gwen back to bed after having a spell in Lady Mary's bedchamber. As they worked at finishing the bed, their conversation steered toward pity at Edith over her bad luck with men. Bates had commented what a shame it was that Patrick Crowley had passed, but Anna had misunderstood, and replied, glancing away, "_It's always sad, when someone doesn't love you back, no matter who you are._"

There had been a pause where their eyes met, and Bates had faltered, sensing that, perhaps, her words held multiple meanings. He corrected her as gently as he could muster, but the way her face had fallen twisted his gut.

"_Perhaps_…" he had begun, his heart racing, "_Mr. Patrick did love her back. He just couldn't say._"

"_Why ever not?_" she'd asked breathlessly.

"_Sometimes, we are not at liberty to speak_," he replied slowly, glancing down at his feet. "_Sometimes it wouldn't be right_." Bates had fled then, barely able to meet her eyes as he squeezed past her and out the door, leaving her to her thoughts.

Mr. Bates could think of very few things for her to take away from that conversation. One, he understood her feelings and returned them, but refused to speak any further about it. (So naturally, being Anna, she would want to speak further about it.) The other was, he completely misconstrued her words, and she was going to tell him off for being so bigheaded that he assumed she loved him. Neither scenario sounded enticing, and as he followed Anna past the kitchens, he braced himself for the worst.

Anna stopped them in an empty doorway and turned to face him. "I think I know where that snuffbox is."

Oh.

Having expected something entirely different to come out of Anna's mouth, Bates fumbled with an appropriate response for a moment. "Where?" he finally choked out.

"Hidden in your room."

Bates stammered again, flustered. "You don't think –" Of course, if Anna had _any_ inkling of Bates's true past, he could see where she might believe him to be a thief. But he had not divulged to her his secrets about being in jail, or his drunkenness, or his marriage…

"Of course I don't!" she replied immediately. "You silly beggar."

Bates sighed inwardly at the smile tugging at the corner of Anna's mouth. She'd only been kidding. _Relax, you dunderhead. _"Then –"

"I bet Thomas would like it if they took you for a thief." Anna quirked an eyebrow, and Bates could have kicked himself. Of course! That made sense. Thomas's suspicion of him following Mr. Carson's announcement that the snuffbox was missing seemed fishy. He should have known Thomas would be trying to pull something like this. And what a clever girl Anna was, to have this figured out all on her own. He could about kiss her –

No. Mr. Bates turned his head away from her to resist the urge, because he damn well wanted to. With that cocky little smile on her face, proud and, perhaps, hoping to impress him with her discovery, she was setting herself up for it. But no. He couldn't let himself give into that urge, however difficult it was to fight against.

He glanced toward the stairs, picturing Thomas waiting at table in the dining room, looking like a right smarmy git. _Of course._ There it was, the perfect way to rid his mind of this obsession with kissing Anna. _Think of Thomas_. "Yes, I bet he would," he agreed, letting himself meet her gaze once again. Her eyes were dancing.

"Go upstairs now and find it," she instructed. "And when you have," she added slowly, glancing away before looking into his eyes again coyly, "you can choose whether to put it in Thomas's room, or give it to me, and I'll slip it into Miss O'Brien's."

Bates could hardly believe his ears. He couldn't help but let a playful reprimand, "You naughty girl," roll right off his tongue, propriety be damned. He watched, pleased, at the flush that rose momentarily on Anna's cheeks.

"'Fight fire with fire,'" she replied with a quirk of her eyebrow. "That's what my mum says."

She turned away from him then, heading to the stairs to be ready for when His Lordship and his guests were finished eating and the tables were to be cleared. Mr. Bates watched her go, dazed, wondering what such a stunning girl saw in him.


End file.
